Three Times
by bittersweet-endings-2214
Summary: AmeRus. These are the three times Ivan cried in front of Alfred, and the one time he finally did something about it. Fluff and crying!Ivan and sugary cuteness! Warning!: This was done done at 2:30 AM, and is a little bit drabbley. You have been warned


The first time I had seen him cry was at a world meeting many years ago. He was sobbing in the bathroom stall over the death of… Someone. I can't quite recall who. Of course, I comforted him. We weren't on the best terms, but what kind of hero would I be if I couldn't cheer up a man in grief? Ivan and I haven't spoken about it since that day, the last words out of his mouth referring to it being "Please don't tell anyone." I kept my promise, and I have not told a soul.

The second time, however, was very different. It was a few years later when the Allied powers were out… I believe it was camping? It was dark outside, and Ivan had gone out into the woods to pee. He had been gone a long time, and I was getting worried. England told me not to worry about it, but I'm the hero. I pulled on my shoes and trusty bomber jacket and wandered into the forest, flashlight in hand. I heard panicked shuffling a few yards away. "Ivan?" I called quietly. Next came a gasp, and more hurried rustling. I peeked curiously over a bit of brush, to see a large wet spot on Ivan's trousers. Ivan was adjusting his long coat in a vain attempt to hide it.

"Ivan?"

The Russian's cheeks were stained with the remnants of humiliated tears, new ones pricking at the sides of his eyes. "A-Alfred… A-A bear c-came a-and… I-I-I was s-so scared that I.. I-I…"

I thought it was strangely endearing how he tried to explain himself. His face was stained a bright red. I just smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright dude. Things happen, I'm not here to judge." I led him back to our camp, somehow finding a way to get him to his tent without the others noticing. No one found out what had happened that night.

I am ashamed to say, the third time did not have such a happy ending. It was during the Cold War, the day after the Chernobyl explosion of 1986. It was, once again, during a world meeting. At one point, the topic of atomic energy came up and Ivan excused himself. I was still very bitter at the time, so I went after him. The platinum-blonde was out crying in the hallway, sitting against the wall. A malevolent smile played on my lips as I walked quickly up to the sobbing man. I grabbed him by the hair. "Look at you, crying like a fucking baby," I taunted cruelly. "I thought you didn't have a heart. I didn't think you cared about your sister! Or are you just moping over a loss of valuable land?"

The vicious words stung Ivan's heart, and he just started to weep harder. He looked miserable, but I didn't see it. All I saw at the moment was my sworn enemy, sobbing in front of me, and I took advantage of it. I kneed him hard in the stomach, and he cried out. Chuckling, I tormented him more. "So? What now, Commie? You're worthless. Nobody loves you, and nobody ever will because you're terrifying, you're evil, and you're good for nothing. Nothing! You are a waste of oxygen with the morals of Hitler! You deserve to burn in hell for all of eternity, and nothing more, you sorry, sorry excuse for a man. You make me sick." I spat in his face, smacking him across the cheek harshly. Ivan at this point was bawling like a child, his body slumped against the wall helplessly as he begged for a mercy that never came. The torture was endless, it seemed, until I was sure he was completely broken. Shattered beyond repair, the tiny fragments of his heart blown far away to never be found. He continued to wail, his voice running ragged. I gave him one last punch in the gut before dragging him roughly into the meeting room by his hair. Kicking the door open, I shoved Ivan in, yanking him down to his knees by his hair in front of everyone. There he sat, crying and blubbering helplessly for all to see.

That's how I lost my hero reputation, at least to myself. Right in front of me was a man who desperately needed comfort, needed _love_, and I could easily have given it to him. But I chose not to. After that, Ivan got really quiet and hardly talked. He never smiled so innocently like he used to, he just would always be blank. The only emotion was in his eyes. His struggle to fight back tears was obvious daily, and it was heartbreaking, especially with the knowledge that I had caused it. However, the dull ache I felt must have been nothing compared to the hollow sadness that Ivan felt. I can only imagine how many times he cried himself to sleep.

Finally, all these years later, I saw Ivan cry again. He finally snapped after twenty-some-odd years and arrived at my doorstep last week. His original intention was to talk, but he ended up tearing up. I felt like crying, myself, but even so I knew I had to do the right thing this time. I scooted closer to the trembling man, and he recoiled as expected. But I was persistent. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, just to make sure he was comfortable with being touched, and as soon as I closed the distance between our bodies he began to weep uncontrollably. I pulled him into a gentle hug, swaying from side to side. He buried his head into the crook of my neck, sobbing loudly, and I let him. He kept crying, and I kept running my hands through his hair, whispering soothing words into his ear. "There there, it's alright… It's okay… I'm sorry, Ivan, I didn't mean any of what I said… It's okay… Shh, let it out… I know… You don't deserve it, I know, it's okay… Shh…"

Ivan bawled for a long time, and not once did I even consider telling him to stop. After a while, when his crying was reduced to whimpering, I asked if there was anything he wanted. "J-Just… D-Don't l-let go… D-Don't stop holding me here…"

I nodded, a bittersweet smile forming on my lips. I let him nuzzle his head into my chest, allowing his hands to roam my back. I kissed the top of his head, leaning back on the arm of the couch. Ivan squeezed me tighter every once in a while, I assumed it was when painful memories came back, and I would rock side to side slightly, holding him just a little bit tighter. After a while, I noticed him shifting. He looked up at me with tired, relieved eyes. "Thank you, Alfred. I… I really needed that." As he got up to leave, I asked him if he would like to stay the night. After explaining to him that I wasn't joking, he complied happily. We slept in the same bed that night. I snuggled up to him (and he snuggled up to me) as we slept, and when he awoke with a start from a nightmare at 2 AM, I cuddled him back to sleep. After over 30-something years of isolation and loneliness, Ivan deserved to be coddled.

And I realized, I was okay with that.


End file.
